Today is Christmas Day, 2012. The joyous celebration of Jesus’ birth on Christmas Eve is behind us. We need this annual reminder that God is ultimately in charge (who else can preside over a virgin birth?).
Families gathered today and exchanged gifts (and probably lots of them will be exchanged again beginning tomorrow or regifted at a later time).

We had some wonderful days leading up to Christmas. While Carolyn gathers sisters, those of you who know me know that Santa and I recently became at least brothers, although he is a little chunkier. And I have had holiday adventures as a result.
Heritage United Methodist Church in Ligonier, Pennsylvania, scheduled bell-ringing for the Salvation Army in front of the local Giant Eagle supermarket. On Tuesday, December 11, I signed up for the 1:00-2:00 p. m. slot. I arrived all decked out in my Santa suit.
What a fun time! I offered a lot of Merry Christmases, even to a number of folks who seemed to be too caught up in the season to see the merriness of it. Surprisingly many of those same folks came out with a smile and an offering for the kettle. There were a few women with children who approached me. The children weren’t quite certain how close to get to me.
“Do you want to pull my beard to see if it is real?” I asked.
Nobody took me up on that offer.
Lots of people seemed unable to pass Santa without making an offering. One man even said, “I can’t go by Santa without making a donation.”Another man said my suit must be old because it was somewhat faded.
“It’s because my wife made it for me in the 1970’s when our children were small,” I said.
By the time I left my post the kettle was considerably fuller, and I’d had a great time greeting folks, strangers and friends alike.

Santa enjoys a bear…

A week ago Carolyn and I had to go to Slippery Rock to prepare an apartment and show it to potential renters. On the way up we stopped at Creekside Restaurant just outside Apollo. It is a great little hometown-style diner. We sat down in a booth and awaited service.
A little further down the aisle a man and woman were finishing up their meals. She exclaimed THERE’S SANTA! (I did have a red shirt on, BUT NOT MY Santa hat.)
She proceeded up to our booth, telling me what she wanted for Christmas— that (more…)

But when you get to your grandparents’ home, for Christmas, after driving 4 hours in the cold & snow, with only the sound of your own voice or that of your mother & younger sisters for company, you find that your grandmother smells just the same – White Lilac is her fragrance – & that your grandfather has lit a fire in the family room fireplace in anticipation of your arrival.

It was just before Christmas, 1983. My friend, Shirl, her husband Wayne and I were ushering at the Alliance Theater in downtown Atlanta, Georgia, for a production of The Music Man.

We ushered at this theater regularly and at other smaller theaters occasionally. It was a way for the wife of a graduate student and mother of a preteen and teenager to afford theater tickets (price, free) while spending three years in that city.

This December day I’d dressed for the holidays, including high heel shoes. I was yet to learn I had high foot arches that made for ankle instability.

I’d seen the play—and the movie—several times before, but really enjoyed the story. The first part of the play was wonderful, as usual. At intermission the three of us joined the throng of theater goers descending the marble stairway leading to the lobby (we’d been assigned balcony positions). Shirl was behind me. I heard her say something and turned slightly to respond.